


The Herald's Rest

by Farashe



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:47:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Farashe/pseuds/Farashe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After killing her first high dragon, the Iron Bull gets Myrlana drunk. Cabot enlists Cullen's help to get the intoxicated Inquisitor out of the tavern.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Herald's Rest

Cullen looked up at the sound of his door opening. It was rather late for interruptions but then, he was still awake and working so he couldn’t really be annoyed. An elven servant walked through the door.

“Yes?”

“Cabot says to come quick, ser.”

“Cabot? What for?” Cullen could think of no reason the dwarven bartender would need the presence of the Inquisition’s Commander. Maybe he needed to throw out some belligerent drunks? But Cullen always stationed a soldier for that very duty.

“I don’t know, ser. I was just walking past, and he told me to fetch you right away.”

Cullen sighed. The servant looked nervous, likely expecting Cullen to take out his frustrations on him. “Don’t worry, lad, I’ll head over now.”

The tavern was nearly empty at this hour, only a few mostly passed-out patrons were scattered amongst the tables. so it was easy to see what situation required Cullen’s attention. The Iron Bull and the Inquisitor sat at the bar, slumped forward but still awake and talking very loudly to each other.

“Please get them out of here, Commander,” Cabot called to him when he entered. “I’m trying to close up the bar, but they won’t budge.” Cullen sighed. He could see the dwarf’s dilemma; one could not order a common Inquisition soldier to throw the Inquisitor out of the tavern. And of course, he was fairly certain it would be impossible for anyone to throw Bull out. Removing Myrlana from the equation would probably be enough, however.

Cullen approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s time for bed, my lady.”

She turned and smiled up at him. “Cullen! Are you propi…prop…proppishing me?” She cupped one hand around her mouth and whispered loudly “If so, the answer’s yes” then giggled while Bull made a lewd comment. Without both hands on the bar to steady her, she listed sideways and began to topple from her stool. Cullen caught her and lifted her into his arms.

“No, my lady, I am not propositioning you. But I believe it is time you got some sleep.”

She pouted up at him. “But me and Bull were having fun! Tarred ass and handsome!” she cried triumphantly. Cullen wasn’t even going to try to translate that; he just murmured something noncommittal and repeated that it was time for her to get some sleep.

“Oh fine,” she said at last. “But only because you smell so nice.” With that Myrlana buried her face in the fur of his mantle and held tightly to him as he carried her toward Skyhold’s main hall. Soon she had dozed off. He smiled down at her and couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of her cradled in his arms. The last time he’d held her like this had been on a mountainside, knee deep in snow. He’d been afraid she was going to die from her wounds then, die just after he’d gotten her back. After the _Inquisition_ had gotten her back, he corrected himself.

The walk to her chambers seemed too short to Cullen. He wanted more time to revel in the feeling of closeness, but he had to let her go. She was the Inquisitor and not his to hold. He lay her on her bed and slipped off her boots then covered her with a blanket. He fetched a glass of water from a pitcher on her desk and placed it on her bedside table knowing how parched she was sure to be when she woke up. He made a mental note to have the healers send her a potion for the hangover in the morning then turned to leave. A slim hand grabbed his before he could.

“Ma serannas, ma’arlath,” she whispered then let go and sighed, falling more deeply asleep. He didn’t understand the words, but he smiled at her tone, sleepy and sweet. He leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead and gently stroked her hair.

“Sleep well, my darling,” he told her softly then left her to her rest.

**Author's Note:**

> This occurs before any confessions about feelings or any kissing that may occur later in their lives.
> 
> And the gibberish phrase Myrlana says is her attempting to say taarsidath-an halsaam, in case that was unclear. Obviously she doesn't succeed.


End file.
